The air-brakes on Storybrooke's school bus—the town only had two buses total—squeaked outside the Charmings' flat. Emma met Henry at the door with light punch to his shoulder, followed by an arm around his neck pulling him in for a quick hug.

"Hey, kid. School go good today?"

"Yep." Henry followed her into the kitchen. He tossed his backpack down the hall. It landed on the wood floor with a thud, and Emma arched an eyebrow. Henry huffed as he took it all the way to his room. "Happy?" he said, climbing onto a stool at the counter next to her. Two mugs of cocoa sat before her, topped with whipped cream and sprinkled with cinnamon.

Emma sucked whipped cream from her spoon and scooted his mug before him. "Yep."

They sat side by side. Emma marveled at that. How long had she fought just to enjoy a cup of cocoa with her son? She smiled. He dug into his mountain of melting whipped cream like his life was completely normal.

Bless that kid.

Emma bumped him gently with her elbow, and they traded smiles.

Henry dropped his spoon into his cup and folded his hands. All business-like. "So," he said, "what's this important meeting about?"

Emma stared at her spoon, licking the remnants of whipped cream from her lips. She plopped it into her own cup and fold her arms against the table. "We need to talk about a few things."

"I'm listening."

Emma took a breath. We're ready for this, she told herself. She'd been practicing all morning. "We need to talk about two things. The first is about your dad."

Henry glanced at his hands.

During the day, Emma gave lots of thought to the fact that she'd never really discussed Neal with Henry. When she found Neal in New York, his interaction with their son became a given. She didn't have a choice. But since he came to Storybrooke—with his fiancé, of all people—Emma felt they were back on her terms.

Plus, Neal's fiancé had nearly drowned Hook two weeks ago when the pirate refused to kidnap Henry on her behalf. Emma counted that as a strike against Neal's ability to judge character.

Nevertheless, he was Henry's dad.

"You know about Tamara and Greg."

Henry nodded. "I know Captain Hook got hurt protecting me."

"Yeah." Emma rolled the spoon handle in her fingers. She still remembered how he looked, bleeding and broken in that chair. "He did. So you know I don't like Tamara very much."

Henry smiled. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think Neal's going to marry her now."

No kidding.

"I just want you to know that I think it's important for you to spend time with Neal, even though I didn't approve of his fiancé."

"I appreciate it." Henry said. "I know you two are figuring things out. I appreciate that you can still share."

Say it like that and we sound like toddlers. Emma swallowed. Keep going, Swan. "I also think it's fair to tell you that I'm not promising to get back with Neal." Emma looked into her son's eyes, reading him. She could read lots of people. Even Hook, in all of his beautiful-green-eye glory. But staring into her son's eyes . . . That still gave her vertigo.

Henry looked down at his hands again.

Sad, but not surprised.

"I know," he finally said. "I guess I'm kinda hoping for that, but . . . I know. I want you to be happy, too."

"Your wellbeing comes before my happiness." Emma shifted so that she faced him. She took her hands in his and leaned forward. "What I did with Neal all those years ago? It was wrong. The stealing, the lying," she paused, "where our relationship went—it was wrong. I made bad choices. I regret those decisions."

Henry's eyebrows scrunched together. "Do you regret me?"

Emma shook her head. She ran a fingertip down the side of his face. "No."

"I don't understand."

"What I did was wrong," Emma said. She squeezed his hands and ran her tongue over her lips as she searched for the next sentence. "Actions have consequences. As a consequence of stealing, I went to jail. As a consequence of what I did with Neal, I had you. I had you in jail. I couldn't take care of you. I had to give you up. It hurt—it destroyed me. For a long time. Those were the consequences."

Henry looked away.

"However," Emma waited until he returned her gaze, "you are still precious. Having you like I did was wrong and hard, but that doesn't make you wrong. You are a great kid, Henry, with a lot of potential and a future just like everybody else. I am so glad you are here right now, in this place, in my life. I'm moving on from past mistakes. I will be the mother I have a responsibility to be."

Henry smiled. "I know."

Emma took a deep breath. "We can't move on from our mistakes without coming to terms with them. So I'm asking for your forgiveness, Henry. I'm sorry I made wrong choices. I'm sorry I was stupid and selfish. I'm sorry it affected your life. Can you forgive me?"

Henry didn't hesitate. He wrapped his arms around Emma's neck and hung against her. "I do, Mom. I really do."

They sat there like that for a while. Emma was pretty sure she cried just a little.

Pretty sure Henry did, too.

At last, she cleared her throat and set him back in his chair.

Last part.

Emma hated the last part.

"You also need to know: The very best person to be your dad, is your dad. Neal. He needs to be part of your life. He should have been a part of mine in a different way."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying you are my responsibility, and you need two parents. I don't necessarily want to get back together with Neal, but he's your father, and you need him, so that may not matter."

Now Henry squeezed her hand. "But I want you to be happy, too."

She smiled. "Can't say I object to that. I don't know what I'll decide, but I do know that it has to be in your best interest. Maybe Neal and I will get back together. Maybe not. If we don't, you have to know that I will make it a strong priority to build him into your life."

Henry looked thoughtful. He was holding Emma's hands again and now his fingers tapped against hers as a thought. Emma gave him time.

"I think," he said at last, "that I always want time with Neal."

Emma nodded.

"But I also think that I want a dad who loves my mom, and the other way around." Henry looked up at Emma. Suddenly she felt like she was a scared, nine-year-old little girl, and Henry was the adult with lots of love and the words to make it all okay. "If you find somebody else that you think you love, we can talk about him being my dad, too."

Snap. That was just too much.

Emma cried. She wrapped her arms around Henry and cried, tears dripping from her face to his as she rested her cheek against the top of his head. Henry held her back just as tightly.

"We're gonna be okay," Emma murmured, sounding more shocked than relieved.

"Yeah." Henry sat up, taking a strong swig of cocoa that was now cold. "We're gonna be just fine, Mom."

They composed themselves in silence for the next few minutes. Quite a pair they made, staring ahead at the refrigerator, sipping cold cocoa with all the composure of the British behind their red-stained faces.

Emma couldn't take it any more and laughed, snorting whipped cream. Henry joined in. They rode it out for a while. Emma ruffled the hair on his head.

"Right," she sniffed, her turn to be business-like. "Now for item number two on the agenda."

Henry nodded.

"I think Captain Hook has made a lot of bad choices, like me. But I also think, given the right support, he can start making good choices."

"He did stand up for me."

"Exactly. So, I would like for the two of us to begin Operation Integration."

Henry's eyes sparkled. "What's that?"

"Our codename for getting Hook connected. Invite him over for dinner, help him make friends, keep him away from Gold."

"Buy him normal clothes," Henry laughed.

Emma snapped her fingers. "Good one! I should find him a job, too. Keep him out of the bar for a few hours."

"He could work with you."

Emma had never seen her son wiggle his eyebrows in such a sly manner. Her mouth popped open. Henry squealed when she grabbed him and tickled his stomach. "You have been spending entirely too much time with Grandpa."

When they calmed down, Emma put her chin in her hand. "So what do you say? Are you in for Operation Integration?"

"Whoa, whoa," Henry said, sounding about thirty-seven years old. "First of all, it needs a better name."

Emma looked offended. "What's wrong with my name? It's accurate."

"Yeah, and boring." Henry tapped his fingers on the counter. "How about . . . Operation Yo-Ho?"

A smile spread across Emma's face. "Wow. That is better."

"Totally." Henry paused. "You like Captain Hook, don't you?"

Emma bobbed her head. "I might see myself getting there."

"Are you guys . . . " He trailed off.

At first, Emma was horrified. What kind of mother was she, for him to ask her that? But then, she remembered who he was, who she was, where they lived. She sighed.

She was a broken mother. But also, a healing one.

"True love waits, kid." Emma settled on her elbows, bringing her mug to her lips. "I know that now."

Henry rolled his eyes. "C'mon. That's what they put on t-shirts."

"Hey, where does it say that a t-shirt can't be right every once in a while?"

Henry giggled.

"I'm not making those mistakes again." Emma continued, serious now. "You can come into whatever room you want, anytime Hook is over. I'm not doing anything I don't want you to see."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Is that a promise? Because I'll hold you to it."

Emma chinked her mug against Henry's. "Please do."

Henry smiled into his cocoa. "Then Operation Yo-Ho is on."